The Fighter
by xXThePrincessXx
Summary: A look into how Alice copes with Alistair's departure.


_Hello! It's been a while since I've posted anything, but life has a habit of getting in the way of these type of things. _

_I was inspired to write this little snippet from The Fray's "The Fighter" (as the title suggests). If you haven't heard it, I suggest that you listen to it, it will make this story make a bit more sense. _

_I own **nothing**. BioWare owns Dragon Age and The Fray owns "The Fighter"._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

The Fighter

_The lover held her love. _

He was leaving her. After all these years.

_She begged him not to go._

He couldn't leave. Not without her.

_The fighter wrapped his gloves. _

He didn't seem to be hearing her, hearing her desperate pleas.

_The fighter said, "I know, I know, I know. Just this one last time, I swear you'll still be mine."_

She knew it was necessary, it was time. The dreams had come for him. But he had promised they would go together.

_But he can't promise much. He goes for one last touch, one last touch._

He gave her hand a squeeze before turning to walk out the door.

_Maybe we were meant to be lonely, lonely. Maybe we were meant to be on our own. Loneliness has always been with me, with me. Maybe we don't have to be all alone. _

It had been a few months now. She had been counting the days. The palace seemed so empty without his presence. Was this how he felt when she had been gone? She tried to maintain an even and unaffected image. But her grip was slipping.

_The fighter goes inside, the doubt is creeping in._

He entered the Deep Roads, fighting the urge to look back.

_ He swings with all his might at all that might have been._

The first few skirmishes were easy enough, but he was in too far, too deep to be able to get out now. If only she were here. She always had his back.

_ And she's in love with him. But lovers don't always win. _

She tossed and turned. He was backed against a wall now. He turned to face a darkspawn that got too close. He left himself open to an attack from behind. The nearest hurlock took the invitation.

_He never even saw the swing. She calls out his name, calls his name._

She bolted upright, his name dying on her lips. No. It was just a dream, wasn't it? Or had the dreams come to her now as well? Was it even possible to be able to dream about what was happening to him? Or had her imagination corrupted the one thing she had vowed to keep intact: her memory of him? She ran a hand down her face. This had to stop.

_Maybe we were meant to be lonely, lonely. Maybe we were meant to be on our own. Loneliness has always been with me, with me. Maybe we don't have to be all alone. _

She flipped back the covers and put her feet over the edge of the bed. She sat there for a while, staring at the floor. Eventually she rubbed her eyes and stood. She had to get out of the room.

_What breaks your bones is not the load you're carrying. What breaks you down is all in how you carry…_

She didn't make it far before crumbling against a high-backed chair. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to deny the horror of what she had seen. A shadow appeared in the doorway.

_The lover held her love. She begged him not to go. She unwrapped his gloves. The lover said, "I know, I know, I know." Kissed his trembling lips, she touched his fingertips. But somehow they both know that he's not coming home, coming home. _

It played back in her mind, their last moments together. They had talked quietly in his room, now her room. She had pressed herself against him, tried to make him see. He clasped her hands, looking down at her with such sadness as he talked of duty and necessity. She reminded him of his promise, that if they were to go, they would go together. He had reached for her cheek, caressing it softly. Then she grabbed his hand and expertly took off his gauntlet, pressing his bare fingers to her lips. She could see his resolve beginning to crumble. She pulled him forward and kissed him one last time. Kissed him goodbye. When they parted she murmured that she understood, that she would hold down the fort, take care of things around the palace, take care of their children. His lip quivered. She mustered a smile kissed his cheek. "Go on," She'd said.

"Kill an extra few for me." She held his hand for as long as she could before he absolutely had to leave. He never stopped looking back.

_Loneliness has always been with me, with me. Maybe we were meant to be on our own. But I gotta try or it will destroy me. 'Cause maybe we don't have to be all alone. _

She looked up, tears staining her face. He stood in the doorway, shadows covering his features. He looked just the same, his hair sticking out in different directions from sleep, a sleepy sort of slouch in his posture. She almost believed it was him.

"Mother?" Her son stepped into the pale moonlight from the window. He looked so like his father, except for the curl in his hair and the way his mouth looked just like hers, always on a twist. She wiped the tears from her face and tried for a smile.

"I'm sorry dear. Bad dream." His brow furrowed in the same way Alistair's did. But he had also inherited her perception seeing through her feeble attempt at normal.

"Was it Father?" She bit her lip to keep back the tears that threatened again and nodded. Her son looked away for a moment, calculating. Then he crossed the room and wrapped her in a hug. She smiled into his shoulder. He had Alistair's heart. He pulled away for a second, judging her expression.

"What can I do?" Nothing. There was nothing that could be done. That was the nature of the Calling.


End file.
